But it was hard to envision facing the task of being an ex-President without her.
One thing’s for certain, he told himself. Life is going to change now. No matter what happens back there in Dublin.
In the cockpit of EuroAir 1020, Alastair suddenly yelped and looked up from his notebook.
“What?” Craig asked.
“We’re at the decision point. Turn it around, Craig.”
“What?”
“Turn this bloody craft around. We can’t make it.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean, we can’t make it?”
Alastair was shaking his head. “The jet stream has moved south! Look at our ground speed. It’s down another forty knots, and the wind direction is coming around on our nose.”
“The wind speed’s increased?”
“Yes! Suddenly, on this forecast, the damn figures are all different and… and much worse. Also, Gander’s suddenly below minimums with fog! At this rate, we not only can’t make Presque Isle with running engines, we’re in potential trouble this far south getting to Gander with sufficient reserves. If we could have flown a true great circle instead of the North Atlantic Track System…”
“How about the winds behind us?”
Alastair shook his head. “They’re calling them the same, and what we’ve experienced is on prediction, but that low over Iceland is in motion southbound, so we’d better move now.”
“Call them,” Craig said.
“Shanwick, EuroAir Ten-Twenty. We need immediate clearance to reverse course and return to Dublin due to deteriorating winds and fuel.”
“Stand by, Ten-Twenty.”
“Negative, Shanwick. We’ve no time to stand by. We’re going to need to descend to a safe altitude and turn immediately while you’re coordinating.”
“Are you declaring an emergency, Ten-Twenty?”
“Not unless you force us to, sir.”
“If you reverse course without clearance and without an emergency declaration, that will be a violation, sir.”
Craig nodded. “Declare it! I’m turning and coming down a thousand feet.”
Alastair nodded as he pressed the transmit button. “EuroAir Ten-Twenty is declaring a Pan Pan Pan, potential fuel emergency at this time. We’re reversing course and descending to flight level three six zero pending clearance, and we request to leave the NatTracks and proceed direct Dublin.”
“Roger, Ten-Twenty, copy your emergency. Keep your same transponder code for now and make your turn. I copy flight level three six zero. Report reaching.”
Craig had already turned the heading knob on the autoflight panel, bringing the Boeing back to an easterly heading as he moved the altitude selector and began the descent. He stopped the magnetic heading at 085 degrees as Shanwick Control formally approved the new course and altitude.
“Alastair, are we okay to Dublin?”
“I’m looking. We’re going to be tight, but if the tailwind holds… we’re okay.”
“Dammit! It was looking so good!”
“I’ve seldom seen a reversal this severe, or I screwed up the figures, or both. The headwinds we calculated were a minus forty maximum, and the average was minus thirty-two. Suddenly with that new information, it would have been a minus one hundred thirty!”
“We screwed something up! They can’t change that fast!”
“They did. But you’re right, somewhere in our figuring…”
“Damn!”
“I know it. I’m sorry, Craig.”
“Forget it. We’re human. Now let’s just get this old girl on the ground safely.”
“Should I tell Jillian?”
Craig nodded. “Yes. And make sure she tells the President. It looks like we’re bringing him right back to the frying pan.”
FORTY-FOUR
“And this would be the lion’s den,” Michael Garrity said, leaning close to Jay’s ear as they walked into courtroom three.
Only one of the court staff – the registrar – was in position beneath the bench at the head of the courtroom, arranging papers and fussing with her files. Stuart Campbell was still outside the courtroom in the Round Hall in animated discussion with no fewer than seven other support solicitors, barristers, and staff.
Jay looked at his watch with eyes rendered bleary by less than four hours of sleep. 9:50 A.M . I’ve got to focus.
“Now, Jay,” Michael was saying, “Judge O’Connell is well known for temper tantrums when people talk in his courtroom. You’ll be sitting just behind me, so you can lean forward and whisper in my ear, but two warnings, if you please.”
“Sure.”
“First, make absolutely certain no living soul can hear any sound from the whisper beyond the radius of a foot or two, or he’ll surely bellow at us.”
“Okay.”
“Second, please don’t knock my wig off.”
Jay laughed. “That happens?”
“Oh, it’s very embarrassing to have a client lean over to whisper something to you, and pull back, taking your wig along with him, or leave it at an odd angle on your head. The judge will definitely comment.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“He won’t let you speak, as we’ve discussed, although Campbell will be a full participant, since he’s already been called before our bar at least once in the past.”
“I understand.”
“Also, I am what we call an SC, or senior counsel, so I’ll be assisted by another barrister from my office, Tom Duggan, who had better be here pretty soon. I’ll introduce you.”
“SC is like QC, Queen’s counsel?”
Michael smiled wryly. “We have no queen, lad. This is the Republic of Ireland.”
“Sorry.”
“Mind you, we think Liz is a dandy old girl, we just have no allegiance to her, let alone any desire to be her lawyers.”
A male staff member wheeled a large television set on a metal stand into the courtroom and placed it near the end of the jury box, plugging in the TV and the video equipment below it. Both Michael and Jay watched the adjustments without comment, knowing full well what Stuart Campbell would be using it to show. The ominous presence of the TV left a cold, black feeling of apprehension in Jay’s gut.
“How are the winds holding, Alastair?” Craig asked.
The copilot had been chewing his lip as he scribbled calculations and used a pocket flight calculator to double-check the aircraft’s flight management computer.
“The tailwind’s almost gone, Craig, and the latest weather report has that low really galloping south.”
“Should we consider Reykjavík, Iceland?”
Alastair shook his head no. “We’d be right into another monstrous headwind at this altitude, and we don’t dare descend into higher fuel consumption rates.”
“We’re right on maximum endurance?”
“Right on. It’s all a function of winds right now, but…” He looked up at Craig and sighed. “I have to tell you, Craig, I’m not showing us arriving in Dublin with much fuel. We may want to consider Galway.”
Craig shook his head and laughed ruefully. “You had to go and tempt Murphy a while ago by mentioning Galway, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Alastair said, lowering his head into his calculations again. Craig realized with a small jolt of adrenaline that Alastair had met a joking comment with a sincere apology. That wasn’t like Alastair, which meant, Craig decided, that the copilot was really scared.
And that fact alone raised Craig’s apprehension to a new level.